


A Proper Kiss

by Nunonabun



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 13:51:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14214519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nunonabun/pseuds/Nunonabun
Summary: Shelagh struggles to define some aspects of her relationship with Patrick.





	A Proper Kiss

Organization had been calming to Shelagh for as long as she could remember. The sorting of goods in her father’s store lessening the chaos following her mother’s death; the categorization of the body into neat medical terms to find a solution for what ailed it; the formality of language to untangle the tumult of her feelings. Yet lying in bed in her boarding house, she couldn’t seem to classify her actions with her fiancé scant hours ago. Before she’d left the order, she would have called even thoughts about such actions improper, but now propriety no longer seemed to fit her; to fit them.

—

“What do you think, would you have been even more intrigued by me had I assumed a series of elaborate disguises?” Patrick joked as he walked Shelagh back to his car from the evening showing of _Some Like It Hot_. Shelagh had mentioned Trixie had raving about it back when she was Sister Bernadette, and Patrick thought a romantic comedy sounded just the thing for their first date since Timothy had fallen ill. They had driven a ways out of Poplar, both conscious of the eyes on them whenever they were in public together, even now.  

“I’m not sure you’d be very convincing, but they do say there’s a perfect dress for everyone!” She teased back gently. “Though I would be quite disappointed if you showed up at my boarding house in high heels.”

Patrick grinned, joyful that her willingness to joke with him had returned to Sister Bernadette levels. “And why would that be, Miss Mannion?”

She slowed as they approached his little MG. “You lips are far enough away from mine as is.”

He almost walked right into the car at her response. His mind rapidly readjusted to the situation, eager not to let the banter fizzle out.

“So they are,” he noted, studying her face for signs of regret or discomfort and happily finding none. “That’s rather impolite of me, might I rectify my lapse in manners?”

Shelagh’s eyes were bright in the winter’s early moonlit darkness, “You may.”

In spite of her words, he thought later that she may have been the one to move first, the gentle pressure of her hand on his waist pulling him to her.

His hand moved automatically to cup her face, longing to tangle it in her hair but thwarted by hairpins and propriety. Her hands moved up his back beneath his coat as she pressed herself against him and deepened their kiss. It would be so easy to untuck his shirt, to unbutton it and feel the softness of his skin under her palms; to make him shiver under her fingers as she’d imagined so often.

Just a month ago she had though she would by now be able to explore what she knew only by hearsay and from the detached, academic descriptions in medical texts. She had been so focused on Timothy - they both had - but now that he was firmly on the mend and she and Patrick could focus on their private relationship once more, her desire returned in full force. As had his, judging by the fervour of his embrace.

Patrick turned them to press Shelagh against the car, leaning into her and winding an arm around her shoulders, the other firm on her hip. She rocked against him, instinctively threading her hands into his hair, urging him to maintain his intensity. For so long she had been happy for her body to be merely a physical vessel with which to complete her work; frustrating in its limitations, yet wonderful in its ability to carry out her care for lives small and large. Now, however, it had rediscovered another use, and she revelled in it. She delighted in the fire that burned within her, and that she could stoke in one she loved beyond reason. This ability to join themselves even closer than they had been was both a blessing in and of itself and a promise of a further, thrilling closeness. A closeness their bodies both craved, his more obviously that hers.

He being more mindful of his limits than she was, Patrick regretfully pulled back, calming them both with the soft kisses that were more common between them.

“I suppose it’s time for you to take me home.” Shelagh murmured against his lips.

He made no move to part them further. “It certainly  _is_.”

He froze at his own words, a sheepish smile replacing his shock as she smiled up at him.

She took his hand, kissing the ring finger of his left hand, where a band confirming their unity would shortly sit. “I would like that too, but that day will come soon enough.”

—

Much as Shelagh disliked their parting, she still valued the silence and solitude of the night. It was a time to process all that the day had been, to sort through its events and evaluate them, harmonizing them with the larger whole of her life. Reflecting on the intimacy she and Patrick had shared that evening, she realized her previous interpretation of ‘proper’ was too narrow for her current life, yet proper was certainly the right word for it. The correct definition in relation to her - to them as a pair - had simply changed.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews are to fic writers as coffee is to a university student, so I'll love you a lot if you leave either in my inbox, though the former may be easier.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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